Lian Sheng Thirty-Two (Part 1)

Advanced age and high seniority always deserve respect. This old monk had sat dryly on the mountain of bones to atone for his sins for decades; he was surely not a shameless old scoundrel like Quni Madi. Ning Que slung his bow back over his shoulder, but did not step forward. Looking at the gaunt old monk from a dozen yards away, he said respectfully, "Junior is indeed a student of the Academy. The Devil Sect's Mountain Gate opened in accordance with the heavenly timing, but I do not know why Senior says that this place full of skeletons is your sin?"

The withered old monk smiled weakly twice and said, "This is naturally a rather complicated story."

Whenever one had a fortuitous encounter in a valley and met an extraordinary person, one would always hear a wonderful tale from long ago. Perhaps because he had already anticipated it, Ning Que's reaction was very calm. He said softly, "Please enlighten me, Senior."

The old monk was silent for a moment, then recalled leisurely, "Years ago, Ke Fengzi began to travel the world on behalf of the Academy. Carrying an ordinary steel sword on his back, no one in the world dared to face his sharp edge. At that time, the Devil Sect's power was still flourishing, acting arrogantly, bloodthirsty and unprincipled. Countless innocent people were brutally murdered by the Devil Sect, and when the two sides met, it naturally resulted in a storm of blood.

"That storm was extremely bloody and vast. The Devil Sect experts who rampaged through the Central Plains all fell under Ke Fengzi's sword. The Xiling Divine Palace and the righteous companions also took this opportunity to eradicate the Devil Sect's power once and for all.

"Ke Fengzi was a man who stood at the peak of the storm, cursing heaven and earth, with no reverence in his eyes. Naturally, the old fogies of the Xiling Divine Palace did not like him either. The Devil Sect, pressed so hard by that storm that they could hardly bear it, came up with a method. They wanted to exploit the division between the Academy and the Divine Palace, setting up a scheme to instigate a war between the two sides.

"One year, at the Ullambana Festival of Lanke Temple, the cultivators of the Central Plains nations gathered, and there was graceful dancing and music. The Devil Sect took this opportunity to bloodbath the front hall of Lanke Temple, but blamed this disaster on the Adjudication Department of the Divine Palace. This was the beginning of the story."

The old monk, gaunt as a ghost, spoke of the bloody story of those years slowly, yet his tone and expression were as gentle as a spring breeze, omitting the cruel scenes of the past in just a few words.

Ning Que supported Mo Shanshan to sit against the wall. Looking at the old monk on the mountain of white bones, he thought about the ancient story the other party told, remained silent for a moment, and said, "Such a framing tactic has always been classified as crude and clumsy."

The old monk pulled up the corners of his drooping lips, laughing with difficulty. His gentle, clear eyes looked at him as he said with emotion, "The Devil Sect must have perished on the outside. Even if there are remnants, they are probably like rats crossing the street. So children like you probably do not know what the Devil Sect was truly like in those years, or what terrifying power it possessed."

Ning Que had left Weicheng and begun to contact the cultivation world nearly two years ago. Except for the Wastelanders he met a few days ago, he had only met a swordsman practicing Devil Sect techniques at the Beishan Pass. Now in his eyes, that swordsman was not considered powerful, so he naturally did not feel the Devil Sect was anything to be feared.

The old monk's eyelids slowly drooped like dry leaves, as if recalling the arrogant aura of the Devil Sect in those years was also a detriment to his calm, elderly state of mind. He then continued to speak gently, "The Devil Sect's cultivation method is the art of stealing heavenly secrets. Those who practice devilish arts possess strong and long-lived bodies, and furthermore, they have no psyche fluctuations, sufficient to evade the detection of cultivators. In those years, the Devil Sect used this advantage to secretly infiltrate the Central Plains nations in large numbers, either standing in the imperial court as the three great elders or becoming famous patriarchs of great clans in the countryside. Their power was interwoven like a net; even the Tianxu Department of the Tang Kingdom and the high levels of the Xiling Divine Palace had Devil Sect members."

The old monk slowly raised his head, looking at him calmly, and said, "If not for their wariness of the Academy and other unknowable places, the Devil Sect in those years, once fully mobilized, would have been sufficient to change dynasties. They dared not act against heaven, but if they wanted to weave a conspiracy, how could they leave any loopholes? In fact, during the bloodbath of Lanke Temple that year, the Devil Sect cut their own hand in pain, revealing the Great Priest who had been hidden in the Adjudication Department for decades. Thus, no one would disbelieve it."

Ning Que frowned and asked, "The bloodbath of Lanke Temple, and what relation does it have to the Academy and Little Martial Uncle?"

The old monk let out a sigh, a sigh full of compassion: "The Devil Sect bloodbathed Lanke Temple during the Ullambana Festival. On the surface, it was aimed at the cultivators of the various righteous sects, but in reality, it was aimed at the envoys of the Tang Kingdom. However, the Devil Sect wanted to arouse Ke Fengzi's madness, so their true target was those pitiful girls from the Tang Kingdom who only knew how to dance and sing."

Hearing this, Ning Que's heart suddenly tightened. He knew from the Second Senior Brother that Madame Jian had known the Little Martial Uncle. At this moment, he naturally associated those dancers—could they have come from the Red Sleeve House of those years? However, Madame Jian was currently still alive and well, occasionally pulling his ears and lecturing him with great momentum when they met. Who exactly had died back then?

In those years, the Devil Sect had spared no expense to weave such a conspiracy, naturally knowing very well that only by killing whom would they drive the Little Martial Uncle so mad that he would disregard everything and charge straight up Peach Mountain. This was just like if he returned to Lin 47 Alley and suddenly saw Sang Sang lying in a pool of blood, with all evidence pointing to the Imperial Palace, then he would naturally also not hesitate to hold his saber and carry his bow to charge straight into the palace gate, rushing into the imperial study to tear the painting "Flowers Blooming on the Other Shore of Heaven" to shreds, and then hack the Emperor into three hundred and sixty-five pieces...

"But the Little Martial Uncle did not charge up Peach Mountain, but instead destroyed the Devil Sect's Mountain Gate with a single sword."

Ning Que looked at the gaunt old monk on the mountain of bones, asking in confusion, "Where did the Devil Sect's arrangement go wrong?"

The old monk was silent for a very long time, and then he laughed. The old, ugly smile contained a very complex meaning, with some emotion, some shock, some bitterness, and also some pride.

"The Devil Sect's arrangement did not have any issues. At that time, the entire world believed that the Adjudication Department of the Divine Palace had bloodbathed Lanke Temple. Although it was incomprehensible, when the elder of Lanke Temple living in seclusion at the Back Ridge of Mount Wa was forced to emerge and pointed out that those murderers all came from Xiling, no one doubted it anymore."

The old monk looked at him quietly and said, "But Ke Haoran did not believe it."

Ning Que did not understand and asked, "Why did Little Martial Uncle not believe it?"

The old monk said, "How could a man like Ke Fengzi be so easily fooled?"

Ning Que was stunned, shaking his head. "This reason is as good as nothing."

The old monk said with emotion, "Years ago, I asked him the same question."

Ning Que listened seriously.

The old monk smiled and said, "At that time, right in this room, he said: 'How could I, Ke, be so easily fooled?'"

A moment of silence.

"And then?"

Ning Que asked, thinking that every story should have an "and then" and a "finally."

The old monk asked with a slight strangeness, "The story afterward... does the world today still not know?"

Ning Que said, "Different storytellers will have changes in the content of the story."

"This story has a very simple ending."

The old monk's voice became weaker as he said, "The Devil Sect's methods did not fool Ke Fengzi. He naturally headed toward the Devil Sect's Mountain Gate. The Sect Master of the Devil Sect at that time held himself in very high regard, and Devil Sect experts appeared in succession, so they were not too afraid, thinking that if you came, they would kill you. Ke Fengzi naturally did not want to be killed by them, so he killed them instead."

He did not want to be killed by them, so he killed them instead.

A very simple narration, a very simple story, yet it was an earth-shattering past buried in the dust of history. The simpler the narration, the more shocking it was. Decades later, only this old monk, gaunt as a ghost, and the countless skeletons filling the main hall of the Devil Sect, could still prove what had happened here that year.

Ning Que looked into the sunken eyes of the old monk. "Then why must you atone for your sins? What does this matter have to do with you?"

The old monk raised his arms, gaunt as tree branches, the monk robes on his arms tattered. His fingers lightly opened to form a hand seal. The joints beneath the thin skin were terrifyingly distinct, like a pair of bone hands reaching out from the Underworld. However, the hand seal formed by the bone hands gently radiated a warm aura that calmed the mind, as compassionate as two white lotuses descended by Haotian.

The aura between the bone hands forming the white lotus hand seal was extremely powerful and pure, yet carried no lethality whatsoever. Along with the gradually radiating aura, the surface of the white skeletons around the old monk suddenly generated a layer of warm, transparent light, as if they wanted to come back to life.

Ning Que stared intently at the pair of bone hands before the old monk's abdomen, sensing that aura, shocked beyond words—the realm of strength the old monk displayed was too profound and unfathomable, truly the strongest he had ever seen in his life.

Mo Shanshan sat leaning against the wall. Watching the old monk's gaunt bone hands forming the hand seal like a white lotus, she suddenly remembered a saying she had heard her master mention when she was young, and could not help but reveal shock and suspicion.

"In the West, there is a lotus that drifts down to the mortal world, naturally generating thirty-two petals. Each petal is different, and each petal is a world."

...

...

"Atoning for sins is naturally because this sin is mine."

"Because from beginning to end, there was never any conspiracy of the Devil Sect; this conspiracy was also mine."

"I knew many years ago that the Adjudication Department's Priest was a member of the Devil Sect. I also knew what they wanted to do. I did nothing. I sat on that cold, black chair, resting my chin on my hand, quietly watching them finish this matter, and then prepared to find a suitable opportunity to go tell Ke Haoran."

"However, I ultimately underestimated Ke Haoran. Without needing the evidence I had carefully preserved, he already knew this matter was done by the Devil Sect. Thus, it was very good. So I still quietly sat on that cold, black chair, resting my chin on my hand, quietly waiting for the final moment to arrive."

The old monk, gaunt as a ghost, sat upright amidst the piled mountain of bones, his bone hands forming the white lotus seal, his gaze gentle and compassionate.

Ning Que's eyes widened, and he asked in a trembling voice, "Who exactly are you? What exactly did you want to do back then?"

This was the second time the old monk had heard this question. He slowly raised his head to look at the sky, the chains piercing through his abdomen being pulled, emitting a crisp clinking sound, causing pain to return to his face, gaunt as a ghost.

The old monk looked at the sky, the gaze in his sunken eyes still warm, the white lotus formed by his bone hands blooming petal by petal.

"Back then, I wanted to destroy the Devil Sect, and I wanted Ke Haoran to die. Only, I did not expect that after spending half my life's blood to turn the entire Devil Sect into a sky-covering storm to strike him, he still did not die."

"As for who I am?"

The old monk withdrew his gaze, looked at the two of them, and said gently, "I am the Adjudicator."

...

...

"Lian Sheng Divine Throne?"

Behind the room, a voice of disbelief suddenly echoed.

The Dao Addict, Ye Hongyu, her clothes tattered, had arrived here at some unknown point. Looking at the hand seal formed by the hands of the old monk, gaunt as a ghost on the mountain of bones, her face was filled with disbelief and wild joy.

Mo Shanshan cried out in shock almost at the same time: "Master Lian Sheng?"